


Lookout

by YvannaIrie



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Amicable ex-boyfriends, Communication Issues, Getting Back Together, M/M, Missing Scene, getting to know each other again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 10:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16038491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YvannaIrie/pseuds/YvannaIrie
Summary: Basch hasn’t changed. After almost twenty years, he doesn’t think he could change enough for Vossler to not see right through him, let alone do so in a meager two years, captivity or not. It's not his place to ask for anything, not from Vossler, even if he knew how.





	Lookout

**Author's Note:**

> An intermission that takes place during the trek over the Sandsea. I wrote this as palate cleanser for some fic in another fandom, b/c I am nothing if not a sucker for soldiers who don't know how to show or receive affection.

”I cannot believe that four years have passed, and yet you still blame yourself”, Vossler says one night when they’re both on watch, perched side by side on a platform overlooking their camp. He’s in his undershirt and breeches, his armour down by the fire, bedroll pulled over his shoulders. As low as the temperatures would fall at night in the desert, Vossler had always been remarkably poor at dealing with the cold, responding to teasing about it with a surprising amount of sulk and strategically placed cold hands.

Basch is not looking at Vossler, though. He had thought he would, that tearing his eyes away after two years of being certain they’d never meet again would be impossible, but watching him in battle had turned out to be more than enough, and Basch isn’t one to get distracted by personal matters.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, you won’t speak for yourself. Just like always, I have to do it for the both of us.” Basch can feel Vossler shrugging. “With how little you’ve changed since… How little you’ve changed in two years, I thought that much would’ve stayed the same, given it was true in the first place.”

He is right, of course, Basch hasn’t changed. After almost twenty years, he doesn’t think he _could_ change enough for Vossler to stop being able to read him at a glance. It was a sweet thought, having no secrets from the ones you love, but Basch had never found comfort with the way _knowing_ always seemed to cut deep for Vossler. It was hard to shield someone for whom knowing and not knowing carried the same weight.

“If you know that much, then you don’t need me to tell you you’re right.”

“I would still like to hear it. Gods know it’s not the worst thing you’ve admitted to lately.”

He’s _actually_ trying to make a joke, and it’s just as coarse and to the point as ever, but Basch revels in it regardless, because Vossler York Azelas, commander of the Resistance, would never get caught saying something like that in front of his men. He might have tempered with age, but the Vossler he knew was still there, harsh and brittle, and woefully desperate to hide it.

“It still gets under your skin, then”, Basch says a little triumphantly.

“I do not think I would have made friends with you if it didn’t”, Vossler concedes. He shifts closer, as if Basch has given him some wordless permission. Maybe he has. It’s been two years, and they’re still establishing who remembers what and if such things matter.

“You made me nervous”, Vossler says after a while, while Basch leans against him. He can’t feel the warmth of Vossler’s body through the bedding, but it’s comforting nonetheless. “All tall and pale and quiet and out of place.”

“I was shy and nervous and alone and you were just about the only one who treated me like a person”, Basch says. “You hated me and would’ve thrown me to the wolves given half a chance, but at least I knew you hated me for not being Dalmascan, and nothing else.”

“True”, Vossler says airily. “I’m sure my embarrassing crush on you had nothing to do with it at the time.” He turns to see if joke landed that time and that, more than anything else, makes Basch smile. Forget never meeting again, Basch had been sure that this, at least, the unguarded and uncomplicated honesty he’d only show in private, would have been lost forever.

As always, Basch doesn’t stare for too long – he still has a camp to watch – but by the time he deigns to look away, he knows the smile has faded, prompting Basch to lean forward and put a more appropriate amount of space between them. Vossler must notice, he _always_ noticed before, because after a while he turns away and leans back on his arms. “I felt immature when I was around you”, he says after a while. “All business as you were, even back then.”

“Neither of us knows how to be anything but our duties”, Basch says.

“That might be true for you, but not for me. Not when I was around you.”

“Yet it surprises you that I would blame myself.”

“That is not what I…” Vossler sounds startled as he sits up, and turns to Basch. “No, that wasn’t what I was trying to say.”

Basch can’t bear to look at him.

The moment stretches, thins out with every crash of the waves, and when Basch opens his mouth again, it’s exactly in time with Vossler.

“I didn’t—“

“We were—“

Both of them fall silent. Vossler sighs.

“Please. I’ve spoken enough for the both of us in the past.”

Basch frowns at the horizon. “I never wanted you to feel obligated towards me”, he says carefully. “I never wanted to be one of your duties. You’d showed me more than enough kindness as it was.”

“As if any of that kindness ever came unsolicited”, Vossler scoffs. “All your life, I’ve been asking you to prove yourself to me, one way or another.”

“You, and everyone else”, Basch murmurs. “At least you always made sure I knew when I succeeded.”

Vossler sighs, exasperated, and leans close again, and Basch lets him, because he has no idea how to ask for these things. He presses his face into the bedding, rubs his face against it in wordlessly.

“I wonder where we went wrong”, Vossler says after a while.

Basch turns so his cheek rests against the bedding. “We are not to blame for Arcadia’s crimes.”

“No, not Arcadia’s crimes”, Vossler says. “But what we had begun to fall apart on the ramparts, and as much as I loathe to say it, thinking you’d died in disgrace had spared me the pain of figuring out why.”

It’s incredible how such a coarse admission could be so comforting. “Vossler.”

“Does that mean you were right about me? That I’ll always love Dalmasca more than I loved you?”

“ _Vossler._ ”

Basch looks up, and this time there is no smile to soften the look on Vossler’s face. Basch brings a hand up to grip his shoulder.

“I never compared myself to Dalmasca, Vossler. It would have hurt me more to die a traitor, thinking you’d live with a mistake you didn’t make.”

“Instead of living with the mistakes I _did_ make?” Vossler asks, voice brittle. His hand rises to touch the scar on Basch’s brow, before sliding to cup his cheek. “Do you ever spare any of that kindness for yourself, Basch, or does caring about the lives of everyone else drain the all love from you?”

Basch can’t help smiling, and it only makes Vossler look more exasperated, before he slides his hands into Basch’s hair, and pulls him into a quick kiss.

“Damn you”, he mutters afterwards, their faces pressed together. “I could have fallen out of love with you by accident and you’d blame yourself for that, too.”

“I couldn’t ask that from you.”

“You never _asked_ me when your damned nobility made me fall for you”, Vossler all but growls, looping an arm around Basch’s head and falling backwards onto the deck, pulling Basch down with him. “Why would you need permission now when you never had one in the first damned place?”

“ _Because_ I never asked you to love me”, Basch says, pressing his lips to Vossler’s chest before laying his head back down, relishing the warmth. He’s not surprised to find Vossler’s heart hammering in his chest, and he’s quite sure his own is beating just as fast. It would serve both of them right, for being so poor at expressing themselves.

Vossler’s arms slacken around him, one of his hands idly petting the back of Basch’s head. “I wish we had time for this”, he mutters, “so I could apologise properly for the way I’ve treated you.”

“You’ve done nothing but your duty.”

“Yes, nothing _but_. And not even that, I fear.” Vossler starts to sit up, but his hand stays on Basch’s head, letting him no further up than on his elbows until he’s sitting up and urging Basch to lay his head back in his lap. “Would you allow me this much, despite my shortcomings?”

There’s something strange in Vossler’s voice, but when Basch moves to look up at him, Vossler covers his eyes with his hand, running his thumb across his brow – a coarse, jittery motion, but one trying to be soothing, and it’s enough to deflect Basch’s concern if only so he can revel in how Vossler’s always trying, for the sake of his duties.

But also, for the sake of his love.

Basch rolls over, leaving the camp and the sea for Vossler to watch, and buries his face in the crook of Vossler’s hip, not knowing what to say.

Maybe, for his own sake, he doesn’t have to say anything this time.


End file.
